


Cathect

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: Van Helsing (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Drama & Romance, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 00:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17818154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: "How did it happen?"





	Cathect

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Netflix's "Van Helsing" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: I recently got into "Van Helsing" and fell in love with Flesh (Phil) and the Phil x Lucky pairing. This is meant to set the stage for their scenes in 2x05 when Phil and Lucky kiss in the diner. So, set in the 2x04-2x05 area.
> 
> Warnings: vampires, blood drinking, past trauma, hurt/comfort, drama, angst, pre-relationship.

_"Hey, wake up, I'm here, hey! wake up. I'm getting you out of here."_

" _You got me loose?! We have to get Mohammad."_

" _Shhh."_

* * *

"How did it happen?"

He looked over at her in surprise from where he was crouched down by the river bank. Letting the water drip down his face before he raised his sleeve and dried it. Putting his glasses back on slowly as her outline more or less cleared. Wishing, not for the first time, that he still had his old glasses as he watched her watch him from the tree-line.

He hadn't been expecting it. But maybe he should have. He hadn't had time to tell her more than the basics back at camp. That he'd been bitten during the Rising. Turned. And then Vanessa had brought him back. Made him human again.  _Him_   _again_.

He licked his lips.

"Is Mohamad-"

She shook her head, coolly cutting him off before he could start.

"He's awake, eating and has a full mag with the safety off. He'll be fine for a few minutes."

She hadn't laughed when he'd told her what he was-  _what he had been_. Pulling her into the empty horse stall like it could give them the privacy he needed. It hadn't, but it was the best they had. For a long moment she hadn't said anything at all. Looking down at him with wide eyes, almost frustratingly strong and controlled. He'd imagined the moment a hundred times, what it would be like to tell someone what he used to be. But when she finally spoke, it had been to ask why he was telling her. Like she was almost angry he was putting her in this situation.

In retrospect, it made her decision to tell Jolene make sense.

But at the time he'd been frustrated.

Jumpy.

Trying to make her understand that he couldn't just roll up his sleeve and shut up like Mohamad told him to.

Not if there was a chance his blood could hurt someone.

He'd told her because it was the right thing to do.

Because he didn't want to hide who he was- _what_  he was.

She'd left without saying anything. That had stung. But it'd hurt worse when she'd been with them, gun half-heartedly tipped up and eyes guilty-wide when they'd come for him.

"Please, Phil. I need to hear it."

He sighed. Something in his chest aching like it was a hundred years old and half a breath from breaking down completely.

She'd given up everything to get him out.

He owed her this much at least.

"I was at work, the day of the Rising. I took the bus. My wife, she- she needed the car. The baby- my son had an appointment and my daughter, she-"

She flinched when he mentioned the baby. Lips twisting when he broke off after mentioning his little girl. He understood. He could say it now, outloud, but it didn't make it easier to stomach. He should know, after all.

He shook his head. Listening to the rush of water as it flowed over the rocks and dead brush. Tree branches bleached bone-white by the sun. Seeing parallels in nature to what he used to be. Only his old life could boast none of the same beauty. The only thing that came close was that first pull of red straight from the vein. The buttery-copper coating spreading across his tongue and sliding down his throat to warm his belly - if only for a quick, fraction of a second.

"I was on the bus, coming home, when someone- a woman- ran out into the street. She was screaming and covered with blood. We nearly hit her. It was hard to see in the dust from the eruption, but she was covered in it. I'd never seen so much. Like she'd gotten into an accident or something. The driver opened the door and she ran in. She turned before they could even get her into a seat. A couple of us got through the emergency glass in time. Dumb luck, I guess. I had no idea what was going on, it wasn't an accident or a terrorist attack- people were attacking each other in broad daylight. Like animals."

He realized in a slow, anxiety-riddled adrenaline rush that he'd never really had time to mull it over. Everything had happened so fast. How the air had smelled like earthy chemicals and the tart of distant burning. How the eruption had everyone on edge. How he hadn't been able to get a signal on his phone. How his wife had asked him to pick up their daughter's ballet costume from the dry cleaners and he'd left it in his office. How less than half his staff hadn't showed up for their shift and he'd had to close early. How-

He took off his glasses, using his scarf to clean the inside of the frames before slipping them back on. Blinking slowly. Pointedly not looking at her as he stared out at the water.

"I was trying to get home. I got close, half a mile maybe, before things got bad. Really bad. I was cutting across this park, running from them, and there was this man- I couldn't see his face. He was different. He wasn't running, he was walking. I thought he was safe, so I ran after him. I remember him turning around. His face was terrible- I asked him what was going on. Then-"

His hands were shaking, so he balled them into fists. But she still saw. Expression thin as her hand twitched at her side. Like she was going to reach out but thought better of it.

"I don't remember the bite, but I remember getting away. Falling. Stumbling up the driveway. Blood on the white paint. My- my daughter. The hollow sound when I dropped my glasses on the floor. My wife was in the kitchen, she called out- asking if it was me. Then-"

He broke off, turning away.

He couldn't tell her the rest.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Not to her.

He didn't know why, but it was there. Like a weight in the back of his mind.

Instead, he just waited.

Ready for the accusations.

The judgement.

For her to shy back.

For-

"Jesus, you never had a chance, did you?" she whispered, looking at him with soft eyes. But not pity. Just feeling. And honestly, he didn't know what to do with that. "You got caught up right in the start. Probably didn't know what hit you."

Everything went blank.

Because, he hadn't.

But he'd never thought of it that way before.

Not once.

_Not_   _ever_.

He'd only ever focused on what had happened.

How it had been his fault.

How he'd been responsible.

How he'd killed his own-

His shoulders slumped, a precursor to the way he slipped and fell in the mud when he tried to get to his feet - to get away. He'd never been good at expressing himself. But this was different, bathing him in the kind of self-awareness he'd refused to accept before. Refused to even think about until she'd said it like it weighed nothing at all.

That maybe it wasn't his fault after all.

His molars ground together as he clenched his teeth in a painful negative.

_No._

She was there before he could make it far in the muck. One hand on his shoulder, letting him brace his back against the firm of her knees as she bent down. Long hair grazing the shell of his ears as she leaned close.

"Hey, hey, its alright.  _Shhh_."

It wasn't. But he appreciated the warm weight of her anyway.

He didn't deserve it, but neither did he move away.

_He couldn't._

He was too hungry- too starved for any good sort of contact to have any self-control.

"Then what happened?"

The pause that came after was the only thing that alerted to him to the fact that the words had left her unbidden.

"You don't have to," she murmured quickly, long legs folding as she sat down beside him. Ignoring the mud and dirt.

"No, no, I want to," he found himself telling her. Feeling like it was coming out of his lips second-hand. Because surprisingly, he did.

He'd never told anyone everything.

Not Mohamad. Not Sam.

Not Axel or the Doc.

Not even Vanessa.

But he could tell her.

She was actually listening.

Because unlike the others, what he'd done,  _what_   _he_   _was_ , wasn't all he was to her. She'd met him after, when he was human again. That was all she'd ever known him as, while the others had seen him at his worst. Somewhere below rock bottom.

She knew what he was, but somehow, for some reason, she was still here.

His chest felt tight when he forced the next inhale.

Trying to school his breathing even as his heart raced.

He didn't know if he could do this.

If he could-

"Its like death in a way. Your body just- stops, all the parts that make you human? But there's another part. Something animal. It takes over. And you feel- well, you don't feel at all really. But suddenly you just  _know_ , I don't know how else to explain it. You turn and your body plays by different rules. You feel powerful, capable,  _strong_. You're no better than your darkest thought or desire. You don't feel it.  _Any_   _of_   _it._  No guilt. No real sort of love. You can't, you aren't capable of it anymore," he answered quietly. Flashing back to that moment when his gaze had gone red and that first terrible, feline growl left his throat. Feeling the rattle as his daughter stared up at him, smile fading into fear.

He remembered walking into the street. Sweet blood dripping down his chin as he grinned and scented the air. He remembered a familiar voice calling his name – a neighbor. He ignored the calls for help, the sound of his wife still screaming inside. Instead, he followed the voice, grinning as he snapped their neck and drank deep, slicking red over red until his dress shirt was plastered to his skin and he was snarling his dominance aloud. Drawing others who ducked their heads to him and growled. Ones that followed him as they ripped their way through the neighborhood. Drinking their fill. Taking what they wanted as the day turned to night and eventually they slept. Piled together in a bloody pack as one female, young, blonde and half-feral cleaned the blood from his chin with her teeth and tongue.

His nails bit into the inside of his palms.

"I don't know, after I turned I- I hunted," he told her, shaking his head slightly as he remembered the cold ache of an empty belly. How in those first few days it felt like he couldn't get enough. That there wasn't enough blood in the world to satisfy the craving. "You're hungry in the beginning. Starving. That part never really stops, but when you're freshly turned? It's worse. Insatiable. It's all you can think about. All that drives you. But eventually I found him."

She turned her head, curious. Feeling more than seeing the movement out the corner of his eye. Just another reminder that she was still close. Legs resting companionably against his even as the mud started to seep through their clothes and smear wetly across their skin.

"Found who?" she asked, hair feathering in the wind as the breeze shifted. Bringing with it the smell of old world pine and damp earth.

"Julius, the vampire that turned me," he returned flatly. Feeling a hollow sort of catharsis start to spread in saying it out loud. In admitting not just what he was, but who he'd followed. Remembering the pitch of Susan's voice when she'd said it aloud like an accusation. Like despite following Julius herself, he'd been on a level of privilege and power that scared her.

And with good reason.

"Julius turned you?  _The_  Julius?" she whispered. Tone needing no explanation. Julius tended to have that effect on people - human and vampire. And he knew better than anyone why. He'd watched Julius' rise to power. Hell, he'd done his best to make it possible. Julius was brutal and blood thirsty - down to earth enough just to make him dangerous.

His cheeks felt hot, body shuddering like he was on the cusp of something as he cleared his throat. Holding back the urge to cough as his lungs felt heavy. Eyes stinging, almost like he was about to-

"I didn't even know I was looking for him. But I was drawn to him somehow. It happens sometimes, especially if the vampire is older, more powerful. Sometimes there's a bond between the sire and those they bite. It's like with Vanessa. Sometimes I swear I can feel her in the back of my head. Like her blood didn't just change me back, it connected us somehow. I don't know," he tugged off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. Feeling a strange ache in the back of them as the corner ducts prickled. Feeling like it was a sensation he should have recognized, only he didn't. "Turns out, I was good at killing. Strategizing. Julius named me one of his Lieutenants and that was how I lived. I earned my place, did my fair share of killing, that was who I was. Right up until the day Julius ordered me to find the dead girl. So I did. We fought our way into the hospital and she was there, just like they said she would be, lying on a table with barely a heartbeat."

"And you bit her?" she asked softly. Like she already knew.

He nodded, a muscle in his cheek trembling.

"And it changed you back..."

He stared out at the river and the woods beyond. Not long ago he would have been able to sense everything. The animals huddled in their burrows. The scent of people. The smell of rotting carcasses. The freshness of the water. The bloody taint of any vampires in the area. All of it. Now he could sense barely anything. Everything was muted.  _Human_. It was one of the only things he missed. Feeling like the world had opened up for him. Like everything was accessible. Clear.

The words were rough when they finally left him. Strained, uneven and desperately close to breaking.

"She tasted like death. My death. For a long time, I thought that was what was happening. She woke up, started fighting the others who'd made it through their defenses with me. But I couldn't- the blood came right back up. My bite brought her back, but her blood? It felt like it was burning me out from the inside. It felt like- like pins and needles only it was everywhere. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. I didn't know what was happening. But I could feel. For the first time in years,  _I could feel everything. Everything I'd done. Every life I took. All of it."_

It had been too much to process at first.

He'd crawled up the chute with his children's names rebounding inside his skull.

But it'd taken days for the rest to sink in.

"That isn't who you are. It was what the bite turned you into. You didn't choose that," she told him urgently. Trying to get him to look up. To look at her. But he refused.

He'd woken up half buried in a pile of dead at the bottom of the garbage chute. Gagging at the horror and the smell, only there hadn't been anything left in his stomach to vomit. He'd wormed his way out from underneath the corpses. Vampires he'd known by name. Some he hadn't. Some that stank of human rot and nothing else. He'd been too numb to scream at first. Mouth too painful and dry to call out.

"Phil, I-"

He didn't realize he was shuddering, tears streaming down his face until she was suddenly there- crouched in front of him. Knees sinking deep into the mud. Gun tossed carelessly to the side as she gripped his shoulders.

"You're a good man, Phil," she murmured, shuffling impossibly closer. Tucking into his side as his fists clenched. Breathing harshly as he tried to pull himself back to together. But it didn't work. This was an emotional sort of labor that had been coming on for far too long to stop now.

"I'm not," he rasped, flinching when her hands dropped down from his shoulders to wrap gently around his middle. Hugging him fiercely as his head dropped into the curl of her collarbone without his consent. Hiding his face from the rest of the world as he murmured the last few words into her skin. "I'm really not."

She held him anyways.

Broken parts and all.

**Author's Note:**

> Reference:
> 
> \- Cathect: to invest emotion or feeling in a particular idea, object or another person.


End file.
